The Cauldron Taken
by RememberGil
Summary: That awfull day where my sisters lost their mortality wasn't over and neither was the Cauldron. It wouldn't stop. Until it had what it truly wanted... me.


**A/N:** Hey guys, I have been sitting on this fanfic _forever._ And with ACOWAR, coming up _**(Finally!)**_ I need to post this before we all run to mailboxes or bookstores, this will be a two-shot or maybe three-shot depending on the upcoming demand. I will post the next chapter probably after I read book number three. So be patient with me

Further, if you're new to my writing, English isn't my native tongue, so please point out any errors in grammar or spelling. Also plz R&R. But enough stalling, enjoy!

(Rating is due for further violence/bloodshed and some bad words)

* * *

Feyre was sobbing. Mourning the mortality of her sisters, caring that people saw her but not being able to stop. She had failed them, failed them so badly that the knowledge was cutting in her chest like any knife would, hurting her even more.

The worst part was she knows that the Cauldron wasn't finished, and it only would be when it got what it truly got what it wanted. The Cauldron water and power stirred. Restless. Even after taking the mortality of two persons. The king of Hybern stiffened in his immortal throne, his muscles taut as if he pulled something with all his strength. The king growled only once in warning and in fear.

And then the the arms came.

Arms made from the water from the Cauldron, so powerful it could shatter this castle without a second thought. This entire world. And they reached for her, pushing the guards of her like they were mere toys. And they grabbed her. Grabbed her with such strength and hunger none could escape. Feyre was screaming and sobbing against the black water and power of the Cauldron, struggling against it with all her might, clawing at the floor praying to long forgotten gods. But it was a lost cause, she may be an immortal, the mate of the most powerful High Lord in history, but against the Cauldron she was a bug, meaningless and powerless.

"FEYRE!" Rhys roared.

Then as if Rhys roar had scarred it, the water retreated back to its master, dragging her with it.

xXx

It was not what Feyre had expected it to be, being swallowed whole by the creator of all. Instead of it being a black hole filled with darkness and pain and torture and despair, it was… peaceful, calm, serene. The cauldron was of bathtub-size but it felt like an ocean, soothing and numbing her. Lulling her to sleep.

Peace, this is what peace would feel like in its purest form.

The ocean reached for her, caressed her sides, calling for her in a tongue she didn't understood.

 _You._ It seemed to say, it's voice old and breathless. _You are the one who got away._

She didn't know what it was talking about, she didn't know anything right now, she only knew that she wanted the voice too keep talking. But instead the oceaan started embrace her like a old friend, tighter and tighter until it became a second skin. A moan escaped Feyre throat, she was starting to forget and she was slightly terrified because she care so little about it.

 _No,_ she taught, _think, concentrate._ _Remember_. _Rhys, Mor, Azriel, Cassian your family, Lucien, Nesta, Elain. Remember those names._

But she didn't.

Instead, she sank deeper and deeper and deeper in the depths of the Cauldron until she was somewhere else entirely.

xXx

Feyre woke to somewhere she hadn't expected to wake ever again.

She was in the forest that was tied with her mortal live. The snow fresh and untouched. Feyre herself was also wearing her old mortal clothes, being so different from the fighting leathers she had been wearing, she needed a second to remember that they were hers once. Feyre touched the bark of a nearby tree, its bark rough and cold, precisely how she remembered it.

Unforgiving and harsh.

"You are quite right, little one." Said a voice both filled with energy and knowledge that came with many, many, hard years.

Feyre spinned so fast she saw stars, there was a stranger with her. His back was towards her and he showed no signs of aggression nor fear for her. But something within her, deeper than her bones and blood, _knew._ Knew that she had been faced with the worst beasts in this world but none, _none,_ would compare to this stranger.

"Did you expect anything else? I _am_ the creator of all, none compare to me." The stranger called once more.

"Who are you?" Foolish question. The nightmare which her worst nightmares ran from. The dagger in the dark and also the batterram of war. He was all.

"You can not utter my name in your tongue so you have given me a name I despise; The Cauldron. I mean, is that the best you could come up with?"

Without knowing it, Feyre stepped backwards, falling in the ice cold snow. But she didn't even notice. The stranger could be very easily lying to her, playing with her like the mortal queens had, like they had played them all like a tool. But then again, there was her instinct, the same instinct that whispered to her in these woods, telling where to go, where to set traps. That instinct told her to run, to run because staying here would be suicide. This stranger - the _Cauldron_ \- held all the power and cards. Her instinct told her to run while knowing full well that it would be pointless.

Feyre could only gape at him - at his lean back, his black attire. She _knew_ that he or… it was telling the truth.

"How…? W-why?" This… Man - no, it - knew what she meant even if she herself didn't.

"I am the creator of all, I may be chained and held prisoner in my own world and skin by my own child, but that doesn't mean I don't have any power for myself. And why? Why you? Why does it need to be you, or why is this happening to the world?" It laughed and even if it without joy and full of poison, it was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

"Because it had to be you. None has ever felt my whole essence, had been my companion and had walked away, swam back to the cold and warmth of the living. You, because we have already met." It turned around. And the same instinct that told her to run earlier, to run and hide, screeched at her to bow her head to not look it in the eye. She did. Looking at the snow she had stampered.

She saw black boots, but did not look up. "You, you are the only one of your kind. You who has felt the embrace of death, of _me,_ the only one who can bear my essence without dying a most gruesome death." Fingers colder then the snow gently held Feyre's chin. "The only one, who can truly see me."

The fingers forced her to look at the most powerful being in all existence.

Feyre had the foresight to keep from struggling, to resist the urge to fight against the Cauldron himself. And fear like she has never known overtook her as she had no clue what to expect.

The Cauldron was as beautiful as he was fearstricking.

His body was lean and tall, his clothes were worn and filthy but they were well made, expensive. His hand which held Feyre were scarred and covered with callosity. It could have been High Fea or even an human, but it's face shattered that illusion.

His face had no skin or muscles, you saw white jagged bone. The holes were his eyes should have been were empty and red hungry flames poured out of them. His hair was as white as the snow beneath Feyre's forgotten body, the teeth of the Cauldron were sharp metal daggers curved inwards. Ready to shred apart any child of his foolish enough to tempt him. She was nothing, _nothing_ , compared to it. And it was the King of Hybern pet, it was his slave, unable to refuse any command. This power who could wipe our world out of existence.

"You can see me and that is why I need to ask you this, you and only _you_ , my child."

Feyre was barely hearing what it was saying, his face was so horrifying that she wanted to scream and scratch her eyes out. But it was also as enchanting as it frightening, it drew her towards the Cauldron like a flame would draw a moth.

"I need to borrow the body I made and remade for you. I need to possess you temporarily, so I can break the lease which was forced upon me."

It took Feyre longer than she would like to admit that the Cauldron expected an answer from her. It took even longer to form one.

"Ho-How can I know that you - that you will return my body?"

The Cauldron's eyes changed to blue faster than she could see, the power it possessed suddenly lashing out at her, holding her more securely than anything in this world. Anger rolled off him like the beating of an wild hart.

" **I AM YOUR CREATOR, THE SOLE REASON YOU LIVE! AND YOU DARE QUESTION ME?! ME!?"** It's shout obliterated the forest, leaving the abyss of peace Feyre has known and feared since the day of her birth. Death. This is the place where the dead go, the place she had gone to when Amarantha snapped her neck like a chicken.

The place where no one has escaped, no one except her.

The Cauldron put its face directly in front of Feyre's, its blue hot flames burning her skin. It didn't have eyes or any facial features but it was clear it was utterly disgusted by her reaction, for not trusting it.

" _If I wanted your body and soul I would never have let you go. But my child Rhysand would never have his true mate, that is the reason why I let you go and because I am fair. I am giving you a choice, a simple yes or no. I would not kill you. As I never have killed any of my children"_ It came closer putting its cold metal teeth against my cheek, whispering even more deadly. " _But. Do. Not. Tempt. Me, little child."_ then as quickly as it had came it released me, letting her quiver on the not existing floor.

It let me collect myself. His flames turning again to red, and letting his power roll back into his body. Going back to being almost human.

"What w-will you do when you have my body?" Feyre voice was quivering, she was feeling overwhelmed. Feeling too much at once to understand. Anger, fear, love, hate, disgust, grief,

The flames in its eyes almost became sympathetic, as much as flames could show it at least. "My child," It crouched before her, putting it hands on its knees. "What I am going to do, is best for you not to remember. Everyone you know, the ones you love and hate, will know that you may be _you_ , but they know that you won't be in control."

Feyre swallow sounded like a earthquake. "... _No."_ Tears flowed down her cheeks "Tell me, I deserve to know what damage my body will cause."

The Cauldron cocked his head, when he created this one, his daughter, he knew that she would be a peculiar one. That would be required of her seeing that she would be the mate for one of his most suffering child. But no one, not even the king of Hybern had dared to defy him in such a way.

He may have leashed him and forced him to do things but the king had always treated him like an emperor, and even if his child has made him almost a slave, he did not hate him. Like any father can not possibly hate his child.

The Cauldron swept the tear his daughter shed and explained everything. Explained and took over control of her body.

xXx

Rhysand, the High Lord of the feared Night Court, Night triumphant, roared deafeningly, shaking this blasted castle to the foundation. He was weak, bound and wounded, yet that roar made him afraid, afraid of himself. He has always known that when a mate was in danger it did the most baffling things towards the other mate. Man that never have seen blood had ripped throats apart with their teeth, woman have set fires that raged and consumed for weeks. Whole wars had been fought and won in the name of the matingbond. And even if Rhys was barely scratching the surface of what it actually meant to be an accepted mate, he understood.

Rhysand understood he would, rip, them, apart.

All of them.

The mortal queens, the king of Hybern, the guards who were just following orders, and Tamlin.

They would suffer a fate worse than death and he would make sure of it.

" _GET HER OUT YOU IDIOTS!"_ The king roared as he was forced to focus on the High Lord of the Spring Court. For the undeserving and arrogant male had leaped at the Cauldron, to finally attempt to save the one he had miserably failed to protect when he should have, only to fail again as he was held back by the massive well of power of the king. Just seeing him made Rhys blood boil, any male with a history with a somebody else's mate was automatically presumed a threat.

Rhysand would like to think he was above that but he is and always will be a mere male, a male with it's faults and mistakes, with his instincts and failures.

For he was a failure of a mate if he let them hurt her.

Rhys, caked with the blood of his own and his, fought like he never had. He fought with a fire that would _burn_ this world in order to get her back.

The guards rushed to the Cauldron and everyone held their breaths. The most fearless guard rolled up his sleeve and plunged his hand right in.

His scream was not one to be easily forgotten.

Flesh, bone, ash, veins. That was left of the poor bastard's arm.

The arm was clutched to male's chest, he landed on his ass and crawled away. Duty dammed. But even the king had no chance to bark a new order as the Cauldron _Ignited._

Where the water was earlier, there was now an inferno. Blue flames, hot enough to meld bones, reached the ceiling, cracking it with sheer force.

Even with the distance between him and the Cauldron, Rhys instantly was drenched with sweat, but his heart filled with glee. Even when in the hands of the Cauldron his mate was going to fight.

The king tensed on his immortal throne, sagging like an immeasurable weight had been put on his shoulders, brows twitched in concentration and exhaustion.

The Cauldron began tilting, spilling the clouded water and fire.

Only to be stopped by ice.

The throne room froze, little clouds formed in front everyones mouth. The windows shattered with the sudden temperature change, the massive decorative doors were made unmovable. The Cauldron shrieked when the hinges on it were fighting to move.

And then stopped completely.

The king of Hybern, with sweat in his eyes, exploded with rage. " _ **DO SOMETHING YOU WORTHLESS PIECES OF SHIT!"**_

The guards, hesitant, walked to the Cauldron, but backed off as soon as the air was filled with an unfamiliar noise.

The noise of metal screaming, screaming about being ripped apart.

Everyone, even the king and mortal queens, looked nothing but absolutely shocked.

As the Cauldron was being teared apart from the inside.

The Cauldron top was being shredded and then curled inwards, the belly of it being flattened and reshaped. The Cauldron feet being sucked inwards, leaving holes where the water of all creation poured out like it was your average bathwater.

It shaped and shaped, until there was a strong but somehow delicate armor on the ground.

An armor filled with the most beautiful creature in all of existence. Feyre, my mate.

" _FEYRE!"_ Rhys roared with all his might. Desperate to see her, desperate to see those eyes, oh so desperate to see that rise and fall of that magnificent chest.

But that chest didn't move, nor did her gorgeous heart beat in her neck or chest.

Instead only her eyes opened.

Feyre rose mechanically, like she had been consumed by the darkness she had fought so desperately against.

As she stood, Rhys knew, _Knew,_ deep in his bones, that… that whatever stood there wasn't his mate. Her body was just being used. Like his had been, a long time ago, but so much more infinitely worse.

And her face, that beautiful and breathtaking face, broke out in cheshire grin that showed all of her immortal fangs, splitting her face in two. A grin so disturbed, so _wrong,_ on his mate's face that it chilled even the High Lord of the Night Court blood.

" _Hello, little ones."_ Feyre drawled, before jumping into action.


End file.
